Tracking a Ghost: Tracer's Origin Story
by Vigilantia
Summary: Sitting across from her interviewer, Lena recounts the long story that led her to become Overwatch's newest and quickest heroine.
1. Prologue

_**Tracking a Ghost: Tracer's Origin Story**_

_**Chapter 1**_

_**\- Lena's 60 Minutes -**_

The interviewer adjusted his positioning in the leather padded seat, smoothing out his navy blue suit and striped tie. Around him were stacked shelves upon shelves of books that lined one side of the wall with a gas fireplace near his desk that provided a warm ambience. It wasn't like the real wood fires of his childhood, but he'd always found the flickering flames gave a comforting sense of tranquility when he looked at them.

The posh office wasn't his idea originally, but Director Wilhelm had insisted for his "twenty-five years of exemplary service to Overwatch."

Seated across from him was Overwatch's new rising star, Lena "Tracer" Oxton. She took off her her brown bomber jacket and gloves before relaxing back into her chair. Despite what the publicity vids showed, Lena was actually taller than most people expected. It was the simple fact that her size was dwarfed by most of the other heroes on active duty, the majority of which wore heavy metal suits that made Lena look small by comparison. Power armour often did that, Philip had found.

Faint wrinkles appeared upon his face as he smiled and shook hands with his guest.

"Well then, it's good to see you again Lena. After you left in a rush I figured it would take quite some time to reschedule this interview. Thanks for taking the time to meet again so soon."

"Good to be 'ere, Philip," said Tracer, "Sorry bout leaving you last time, but when the Director asks for your help, ya don't really turn 'im down."

"Of course," he said, giving an understanding smile. "Reinhardt can be a very imposing man if you're not used to it."

Philip continued on. "Now, before we continue with the debriefing, is there anything I can get you? I know you guys like your tea. I've got orange pekoe in the pot but I could get you some of the more of that expensive Chinese stuff somewhere if…"

"No no, it's fine," she said, holding both hands upward with a nervous yet bright smile.

Picking up the pot of tea on the coffee table, Phllip filled up two mugs of fresh steaming hot tea. "Well then, continuing on from before. We were talking about what happened on that fateful day."

Tracer nodded. She leaned back against her seat as she remembered. "Almost impossible to forget, a near perfect day for flying. No sun, but the sky was bright blue with nary a cloud in sight."

* * *

_\- Six Months Ago -_

Captain Lena "Tracer" Oxton looked at the green fields of Buckinghamshire flying past below her, the flowing scenery flashing past her canopy. Above her lay the open blue skies and her domain. Exhaling her breath, she forced her abdomen and legs to tense before pulling up on the Slipstream fighter's controls. The horizon disappeared from her view as the fighter aircraft pitched up, sending several Gs of pressure against her body. She admired the rotating world outside her canopy window before returning the aircraft back to its original heading.

She gave a sigh of relief before grinning. This was what she lived for, the speed and freedom of the skies. There just wasn't anything else like it on the ground.

A voice came from her helmet.

"SS01, please maintain your current heading. You're giving R&amp;D quite a scare with those sensor readings," said Control. She recognized the familiar Texan drawl of Major Sharp, Slipstream's project lead.

"Confirm, Wycombe Tower. We wouldn't want that, now would we? " she replied in a chipper tone.

"SS01, you'll recall initial airframe stress testing was last week. Stick with today's test plan, please," said Control. From his tone Lena could practically hear the man sigh.

"Understood," Lena replied.

She supposed she should _just_ stick to the plan today. After all, this was the big day she'd actually get to use the new Slipstream drive. She looked at the circular device installed smack dab in the middle of the cockpit. Truth be told, it didn't look like anything more than just a big clunky holo display at the moment but she knew from the amount of brass that had passed through the base that it was anything but a joke.

"SS01. All readings appear optimal on our side. You may proceed with the test when ready. Out," said Sharp.

Like the techies had shown her, she flicked off the safety on the instrument panel and the device itself before pulling the drive's activation handle forward. There was a shudder across the jet as the device hummed to life and then a ripple, like a shockwave spreading through water, engulfed the entire plane. The circular core activated and its center flashed on, glowing and dimming in intensity.

"Wycombe tower. Slipstream drive is now activated. Everything's lookin' good so far..." she reported.

"Confirm. We're receiving data from the sensors now," replied Control, "airspace is clear and all conditions appears optimal. You are go for Slipstream jump, SS01."

"Roger that. See you on the other side," she said.

Tracer tapped several of the holographic buttons and set the Slipstream fighter's destination. She tapped the activation icon and waited for the drive to spool up. She watched as the Slipstream drive began to glow bright enough that it seemed like the sun had hid itself inside her cockpit.

"SS01, status report. Some of the sensor data..." said Control before the radio cut out. For a moment she thought she heard frantic yelling in the background.

"Say again all after the word 'data'?" asked Lena. She felt her chest constrict at the sudden silence. That didn't sound at all good.

"Deactivate the slipstream drive," came Sharp's voice, the radio channel tinged with static.

"Wilco," Lena replied into her mic. She pulled back on the activation handle. Nothing. The device continued to glow and even seemed to increase in power. She flicked the safeties back on with the same result and felt that void in her chest turn into a chasm.

"Wycombe tower… the uh, it's not shuttin' off. Power's off and safeties back on but it's still active," she said. There was an uncomfortably long pause as Lena waited for the tower to get back to her.

"SS01, our readings are going everywhere. Suggest you hit the emergency shutdown. Now!" yelled Sharp through the heavy radio static.

Major Conrad Sharp wasn't a man that was easy to startle. The Major always held a relaxed demeanor that seemed to take an extra few seconds to mull over facts in his head before speaking. In fact, in the six months since she'd joined Project Slipstream she couldn't recall him ever rushing for anything let alone getting angry, which was why the panicked urgency in his voice caused her blood to run cold.

Lena reached down toward the drive and pushed the emergency shutoff switch, only to see her arm pass through the plane as if it weren't there. Her breath caught in her throat and eyes opened in shock as she simply stared at her arm which was currently halfway through the cockpit. Pulling her hand out, she tried shutting down the Slipstream drive again with the same result. She could '_touch_' it, but the moment she placed any pressure on it, her hand phased through.

Her mind froze as it tried to come to terms with what she'd just seen. She forced herself to breathe and tried to calm her pounding heart.

_In and out. In and out. Just breathe, Lena. _

"Tower... umm.. me arms can go through the cockpit," reported Lena blankly.

It took Control a long moment to respond. "SS01, say again?" he said, bewildered.

"I…" she began to say.

Lena paused when she saw her gloved hand fade from sight. Her stomach dropped as if she'd went into freefall. She brought both hands upward and watched as they seemed to flicker and fade like some old neon pub sign. In the background, the familiar roar of the Slipstream's engine began to disappear from her ears.

"SS01. Report," ssaid Control. "What's your status?"

Her throat felt as dry as parchment as she spoke. "Sir, " said Lena. "I don't know. It's like I'm fading away. Disappearing… Please, sir. You've got to do something. Help me!"

"SS01, just calm down," he replied. His voice was level once again but she could hear his stress and nervousness when he spoke. "We have aircraft heading to your position and the research team is doing everything they can. Just stay with me."

His voice seemed far in the distance now. Blinking back tears, she watched as her body began to turn as translucent as the canopy window.

"Sir, tell me mum and brother I love them and… sorry for leavin' without sayin' goodbye," she said. Lena looked upward at the skies above her, watching as the blue skies faded disappeared from her sight.

"SS01, are you still there? SS01? Tracer? Tracer!" yelled Sharp.

However, by that time Lena Oxton was already gone; vanished into the ether. A while later, the XT-01 Slipstream fighter clipped several trees before crashing and exploding in a nearby field. There were no other casualties, but Captain Oxton was presumed dead.

* * *

"And what was that experience like? What were you thinking when it happened?" asked Philip. Leaning over the coffee table between them, he refilled his guest's mug of tea, before returning to writing notes on a pad.

"Quite frankly? T'was terrifying. Would have wet me pants if I could. At the time, I thought about those poor sods in bi-planes back in World War I. If their plane caught fire, they could either burn or take the quick way out and shoot 'emselves with their revolvers… except I couldn't even do that. I felt hopelessly trapped," said Tracer.

"And what about afterward? When you disappeared," he asked.

Rubbing her chin, she thought for a moment. "It... was… warm. And floaty," she replied.

Phillip coughed up his tea. "I'm sorry?" he said.

"Well, Winston mentioned something about how having Chronal Disassociation meant the ambient temperature doesn't affect your body anymore, so the only heat I could feel was from myself… which felt warm I suppose. It kinda felt like floating in a pool actually.

"I see..." Phillip asked. "And afterwards when you came back?"

"I'm not completely sure. Exley was the one that found me. You'd have to ask 'im what happened," Lena said.

Phillip gave a long, drawn out sigh before leaning back against his chair. "Agent Exley… Yeah, I'm sure I'll have great luck with that."

* * *

Author's Notes: For Tracer's accent, I'll ease off or add more when I believe it's needed. Hopefully, you'll remember it's there but it's not overpowering and confusing.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Tracking a Ghost: Tracer's Origin Story**_

_**Chapter 1**_

Author's Notes: Well, this wasn't the chapter I originally planned but numerous rewrites and plot reshuffling finally ended us here. It's not the chapter some people will want, but it sets up the background for the story. I originally contemplated releasing Chapter 2 and 3 together for better story flow but that would be quite the wait (esp. given Overwatch has finally released) so I figured I might as well release content early.

As usual, thanks for your reviews. They help motivate my progress even if you can't see it.

* * *

_Oversight's global security mission is to preempt threats and further Overwatch's national security objectives by collecting intelligence that matters, producing objective reliable analysis, conducting effective covert action as directed by the Strike Commander of Overwatch, and coordinating intelligence efforts that drive actions to protect Overwatch and its member nations. _

_Our goal is to develop a comprehensive understanding of the threats both internal and global that have the desire and capability to harm the people we are charged with protecting. Such threats include terrorist organizations, criminal enterprises, Omnic threats, and other entities that transcend national boundaries._

_\- Overwatch Intelligence Security Agency (Oversight) Mission Statement_

* * *

_**\- Overwatch Intelligence Security Agency -  
**_

_Oversight Regional Office  
__London, England_

If one were to drive outside London proper, past the glimmering towers of the city's center and the ever growing brick row homes that lined the suburbs of the ever expanding city, the first thing that would catch your eye would be the twin rising monoliths rising in the distance. A white marble blade alone amongst green fields, thrust into the grey English skies. It had taken the architect many long years to design and finally complete the war monument, a commemoration and a remembrance to what was lost in the bloody Omnic War and to the innocent people whose lives were irrevocably destroyed. A reminder of the high price of war.

Omnic titans, massive war machines that would eclipse most buildings, engaged battered and fatigued Coalition forces outside London in the darkest days of the war. By the end, Overwatch had prevailed and millions of lives within London had been saved but at a great cost; the King's Royal Hussars had been reduced to a mere dozen damaged tanks and the US 1st Armoured Division would cross the channel to Paris missing two combat brigades.

A moment of sacrifice and heroism for Overwatch and Humanity, but a humiliating failure for Oversight. Back then still known as the ISA, Overwatch's Intelligence Security Agency instead of its modern alias of "Oversight", the intelligence agency had failed to notice the early warning signs of an Omnic attack and brave men and women had paid the price.

Alone watching over the acres of green fields lay Oversight's UK regional office. Unlike its flashier Overwatch counterpart based in urban London, the tall glass and steel structure stood alone surrounded by fields of grass and sparse forests. The building's front pointed towards the lone monument in the distance, a constant reminder of the dangers of complacency.

Agent Nathan Exley looked out of his office at the darkened fields, the war monument silhouetted against London's distant lights. He watched the darkness outside as the voice on the phone continued to deafen his ear.

"Yes, Major. I'm sorry I wasn't able to contact you sooner but McCree's… yes, Major, his prior connections with his gang were necessary for…" said Exley.

Exley paused as the Major shouted through the cellphone once more, further increasing the ringing in his right ear. He idly watched motes of light move to and fro on the distant M25 Motorway as Major Starkley provided a detailed and riveting lecture on protocol and procedure before abruptly ending the call. With a sigh, Exley tossed the cellphone on his desk before reaching into his desk for his burner phone.

He dialed a too familiar number and waited five times before arriving at voicemail.

"It's done, McCree. The next time you decide to go AWOL for a personal vendetta on our side of the pond you can tell me beforehand or it can be your head on the line next time," said Exley, before tossing the second phone to the desk.

It would take him several days to sort out the mess McCree had made at Grimsby and Immingham. There was no doubt that past the bourbon and brash exterior McCree's heart was in the right place. His cowboy antics had taken down a human trafficking ring that ran from Britain to France and rescued dozens of innocent girls and women from the sex trade, but it had also landed him with a motherload of paperwork before the weekend: twenty-six dead, five injured and arrested; all without a warrant.

The operation wasn't sanctioned by Overwatch, meaning the five traffickers would possibly walk given the extreme circumstances. Four of them were just hired muscle but the last one, Leland Fettel, had been the head of the trafficking ring. If Fettel walked, he would reappear years later heading another operation. If they failed to cut off the head, they'd simply reappear like weeds.

Couldn't McCree have just shot him and saved him the trouble? McCree was too good of a man. Blackwatch normally saved Exley the problem with troublesome suspects. The dumb ones died, the smart ones surrendered and were sent to the Met, and the really unlucky ones disappeared before finding themselves in a cell meeting a men with particular sets of skills.

There was also the issue of entering without a warrant, meaning most of their hard evidence was gone. If they were lucky, Judge Reeds would be taking this case and they'd hopefully be able to build a case from the girl's witness testimonies and whatever admissible evidence was left… which also meant he'd have to get in contact with Overwatch's legal department tomorrow.

Damn McCree. He could have at least waited two hours for Oversight to assemble a Blackwatch strike team and get authorization. He could have at _least_ told him he'd even be in London.

McCree might have had a heart of gold, but he would be needing it to pay bail at this rate. Believe it or not, Overwatch was still beholden to its member countries. They could only push the boundaries by so much.

He sighed and leaned back into his chair, the old springs squeaking with the shifting weight, before staring at the patterned ceiling tiles above. Maybe he could go with exigent circumstances and build on from there… Something about McCree hearing one of the girls screaming from outside the warehouse...

Exley took a gulp from the remnants of his now cold coffee, its warmth long gone with the setting sun, before looking at the clock: 11:00pm.

He'd have to deal with all that tomorrow. Rising from his desk, he had just enough time to grab his suit jacket from its hanger before his main cellphone rang once more, piercing the silence of the office. His brow creased in irritation as he eyed the clock once more.

"Nothing good comes this late at night," he thought.

"Answer, main display," he said. He finished donning his suit jacket in an attempt to make himself look more presentable.

The whiteboard in his office shimmered transparent before dissolving into the face of a young man of presumably Indian descent, the phone's camera focused considerably too close to the man's face. In the background Exley could see several monitors and holodisplays as well as several figures moved back and forth.

"Hello? Is this, uh, Agent Exley?" asked the young man, glanced down twice as if double checking who he was calling. Whoever he was, he looked tense like a man with too much coffee, or perhaps adrenaline. Exley had a hunch he wouldn't like this.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"Uh, Dr. Rousseau from the Orchard, Overwatch's west London facility. It says on the form here that you're… uh… the last emergency contact for Project Slipstream?" Rousseau said. Despite the doctor's Indian ethnicity, he spoke with a distinctly Oxford accent denoting his British upbringing.

The doctor continued on, "I'm sorry it's late, sir, but you were the last senior contact still in country. Colonel Sharp and Director Walters are both in Berlin at the moment."

Exley sat on his desk, eyeing the remnants of his coffee. "There a reason for this call?" he said. If memory served correctly, Project Slipstream had been halted since the failed test flight with the investigation still in progress. What the hell had they done now?

"We've, uh... recorded a new Slipstream event. One that isn't ours," Rousseau said, glancing nervously to and from a screen off camera. The doctor seemed tightly wound to say the least.

Exley carefully placed his mug of coffee down.

"Start with that next time," he replied. Exley mulled the implications of the Russeau's words over. There could be several reasons for an unknown Slipstream event. Unfortunately, none of them were good and all meant contacting the Overwatch security council

Exley grimaced. Nothing good ever came from having to contact the council.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes, meaning I'll be briefing the Director and Overwatch's Security Council in an hour at best. I'd like to have something to tell them when that happens. Am I clear, Doctor?"

Rousseau's eyes widened. "Completely, sir."

Exley cut the call. Locking his office, he hurried down empty halls and past the dark offices of the Oversight building, dialing on his cellphone as he walked. The dialing stopped as he reached the elevator.

"This is Agent Exley with Oversight. You'll want to inform Strike Commander Morrison we have a _Pinnacle ChronFlash_ situation," he said. "Yes. It's not ours."

* * *

_Orchard, Overwatch Research Facility  
__London, England  
__Section E_

Before the ill-fated Slipstream fighter was even a nascent thought amongst Overwatch's R&amp;D department, there had been the Orchard research facility. It was here where the seeds of Project Slipstream had grown.

Designed several years after the end of the Omnic War, the Slipstream reactor was completed twelve years later despite competing projects and budget cuts. Chairman Mark Walter's efforts were vindicated five years later after the first successful test. Through the manipulation of Higgs particles, a sensor probe was successfully teleported several meters inside the facility's test chamber. At least, that was what the media enjoyed erroneously reporting. In reality, it was a considerably more complex situation still only partially understood by the Slipstream science team. Experiments displayed conflicting results wherein teleported objects would both appear and disappear in flight.

Despite this, the science community hailed it as a massive breakthrough. A milestone for space travel... with terrible potential for destruction.

Even as the science team corked open a bottle of champagne for their success, military and political figures mulled over the implications of this new technology. How could governments defend against an enemy that could plant a nuclear weapon in the capital at enemy moment? There were also concerns with Overwatch being the sole proprietor of such technology, concerns not completely unfounded given the recent cries of corruption among the organization's ranks. The destruction of Overwatch's Swiss headquarters and its curiously quick investigation still lingered on people's minds.

By the time the first Slipstream fighter had been designed and construction began, Orchard had found out how to track Slipstream jumps. Latinov radiation, a newly discovered and relatively harmless form of electromagnetic radiation, was created as a byproduct of manipulating Higgs particles and gravitons; the longer the distance of the jump the higher concentration and spread. Through modifications to existing gamma-ray spectrometers, a specially fitted lab could detect Slipstream jumps hundreds of kilometers away.

All of this now led to Orchard Wing E, Overwatch's main research facility and the birthplace of the Slipstream project. Exterior sensors that had lain dormant since the Slipstream test flight sparked to life feeding new data to the Slipstream control room...

Dr. Kamran Rousseau wiped the perspiration accumulating on his forehead as he looked through the data the Orchard had recorded when the Slipstream jump occurred. Pinnacle ChronFlash, the codeword for an unknown Slipstream jump that would rise up the chain of command all the way to Strike Commander Morrison and the UN Security Council… before heading back down all the way to him. At the moment, he had nothing to tell them. He looked around the control room, wishing for something to distract him.

Monitors and control gauges, both holographic and physical, lined the walls of the Slipstream reactor's control room. At the centre of the room sat a massive holotable currently displaying a wide circular column composed of spreadsheets, tables, graphs and a whole plethora of other recently aggregated data. Idly, it reminded him of the news booths and ad displays he'd once seen in New York's rebuilt Madison Square Garden. A smattering of technicians, engineers and scientists filled the concave room, discussing readings and getting caught up to speed on the sudden emergency; most of them coming from Orchard's adjacent wings.

When the UN committee had temporarily shuttered the Slipstream project, many had feared it might be permanently. Despite Dr. Winston's efforts, much of the project's staff had been _temporarily_ delegated to other projects, much to his consternation.

Kamran massaged the bridge of his nose before sighing and dropping his head on the table, somewhat hoping this entire nightmare would just go away.

"Kamran, are you feeling well? " came a deep baritone voice from the screen in front of him.

Dr. Harold Winston, one of Overwatch's foremost experts in theoretical particle physics and one of the nominees to last year's Nobel Prize in Physics, was the team lead for the Slipstream project. Unfortunately, Winston, his mentor and good friend, was currently not here.

The young Indian doctor looked up at the dark simian on the holoscreen. In the background, he could see streetlights flashing by as the car's autopilot drove through the streets of London. Winston himself, however, was perusing the data he'd sent him while idly eating a sandwich... probably Winston's usual peanut butter and banana sandwich he loved so much.

"No, Winston, I am not," responded Kamran. He forced himself up and faced the monitor camera. "I'm the intern. I'm not even supposed to be here! I was finishing a report for Nelson when this occured and now you're telling me I have to prep a report to the council and tell them we have absolutely no idea what's happening?"

Winston took off his glasses before rising to his feet, leaning forwards on the camera.

"Firstly, _Dr._ Rousseau, you are not an intern," he said, poking the screen with his finger, "If you were, I'd have that new cappuccino machine in the lounge instead of having to pay you a real salary. Secondly, Kamran, of all the people at Orchard right now, it would be _you _that is most qualified person to present information to the Council. Not Dr. Mathers or Kline and not me."

Kamran leaned back and rested his head against his headrest. "I hope you're right, Winston." he muttered before closing his eyes.

"Of course I am. Do you really think I'd let any old monkey be in charge? I'd get Neil if that was the case. Have a bit of confidence, Kamran, and try to be more assertive."

"Any good news, Doctors?" came a voice behind Kamran.

He matched the American accent to Agent Exley from before. Twirling around in his chair, Kamran saw the Agent and Conrad from the evening security shift standing beside him.

"Dr. Rousseau? This is Agent Exley from Oversight. Jones from security said you were expecting him?" asked Conrad. The security guard seemed tense compared to his usual easygoing demeanor. Kamran supposed he couldn't blame him, he didn't want to be here either.

The Oversight agent seemed younger than from the video, with Kamran estimating the man to be in his late twenties. The agent's black business suit and matching white dress shirt clashed with the more familiar cardigans and t-shirts the doctors and technicians normally wore around Orchard. Even more bizarre were the sunglasses he wore during this time of night; although the backlight behind the dark shades hinted at a more utilitarian use.

"Yes yes, of course, Conrad. It's alright, I'll take it from here," he said, waving the guard away. Kamran watched Conrad hastily retreat towards the door before turning his attention back to Exley, the agent's thoughts indiscernible against the reflection of his dark glasses and stern visage.

"How's the situation look?" asked the agent.

Kamran felt a cold shiver run down his back.

"Well… you see, some of.. uhh…" he said fumbling with his words. Luckily, Winston stepped in.

"Kamran here was just getting me up to speed on the situation. How about you start from the beginning for the agent and then we can go from there?" Winston suggested.

"I kind of expected you to be doing the presenting, Dr. Winston," said Exley.

"Normally I perhaps would," he replied. Winston's image on screen stuttered before continuing on, "but Dr. Rousseau was the only one on duty since the incident. It's unfortunate but I only just arrived at Heathrow when Rousseau informed me of the situation. I'm looking over some of the data now but I'm afraid my hands are tied at the moment. I trust my colleague here will be able to answer any questions of yours, if you would?"

"Uh, right. Right!" muttered Kamran. His fingers rapidly tapped against the keyboard, bringing up a slew of coloured diagrams and tables on the main holo display. At the center was a map of Europe with a large ring encircling parts of Britain and Northern France.

"Just a little over an hour ago, our sensors at the Orchard detected a sudden spike of Latinov radiation in southern Britain. Unfortunately, the radiation spike was quite brief making it difficult to track the point of origin. We're still gathering data from Overwatch facilities in Europe.

"And you're absolutely certain none of this was from Slipstream?"

Kamran shook his head vehemently. "Completely impossible. Slipstream experiments have been halted since the accident".

The agent glanced towards the room's holotable.

"Reactor looks operational to me."

"The reactor isn't just for Slipstream experiments. We also provide radioactive isotopes for several hospitals and research labs in Britain. However, any experiments for Slipstream were shut down last month. If anything happened we'd know."

The Oversight agent pondered what Kamran said before turning to the map of the United Kingdom on the holotable.

"From the reports I've read, Slipstream events leave a radiation trail that we can trace to its origin." Agent Exley noted. "That's not even getting into the fact we should have been able to detect any unauthorized aircraft appearing in British airspace. Have you been in contact with the Civil Aviation Authority or RAF Air Command yet?"

Kamran felt his stomach drop. "Well, you see… That's the issue. There is no trail, no smoking gun. This is something we've never seen before. The Latinov radiation from a jump normally leaves a spreading path for us to follow, like a pool of oil, but this is more like a flash in a pan. Taking into account current weather conditions and wind direction we can at best narrow it down to somewhere in southern Britain."

"And the CAA and RAF?"

"Uh… they're still looking but they haven't found… well… anything out of place. No airspace intrusions or unknown aircraft at the moment."

"So we have nothing," Exley stated plainly.

There was an awkward silence as Kamran felt his hands clench as he felt his frustration bubble over. Where did this ruddy bastard come off with that attitude? They'd barely had enough time to do much beyond stare at the incoming telemetry.

"That… isn't strictly true, Agent Exley," interjected Winston, "we have loads of data coming in but insufficient time or manpower to analyze it. Even if it wasn't in the middle of the night, Slipstream itself is still understaffed due to the investigation."

"That isn't good enough, Doctor. Key members of the council aren't going…"

"Enough!" Kamran yelled, much louder than even he expected. Several heads turned at the sound of his voice.

Both Winston through the monitor and the Oversight agent turned towards him, Exley crooking a brow at his outburst. The agent casually leaned against the table, waiting for the doctor to continue.

Kamran swallowed. He'd backed himself into a corner. No way out but forwards now.

"The fact of the matter, sir, is that it's barely been an hour since we discovered this event and it's nothing like what we've seen before. You're asking us to draw conclusions for something that would normally take hours if not days. Even in the Slipstream's trial runs, our tests took hours to analyse and processing and now you're asking us to give a complete report under real world conditions with less than a skeleton crew in the middle of the night. And even if we had the full Slipstream team here it would still take us more than thirty minutes to arrive at any sort of damned conclusion. We don't bloody have anything because we need more time."

There was a moment of silence as Exley patiently waited for Kamran to continue. When it was clear he was done, the agent spoke.

"That the speech you're going to prepare to the council?"

"What?" his words caught Kamran off guard.

"Is that what you'll be telling the UN council and Strike Commander Morrison?"

It took a moment for his words to register. "I thought _you_ were speaking with the council?"

Exley shook his head.

"This is what you want me to go to the council with. We have an unknown radiation signature, normally associated with Slipstream teleportation, that has no point of origin. Is it Russia? The Omnics? Maybe it's from a company like Vishkar? Doesn't matter. Overwatch is no longer the only contestant in this field. This doesn't even take into account the fact we can't detect their re-entry vehicle assuming there is one to begin with, meaning we don't know where it is right now or anytime soon."

Exley continued on. "I'm sure you're aware the UN's investigative committee was formed to investigate corruption in Overwatch's ranks? They abhor unknowns. If they can't get their answers from me they'll ask for you. As far as their inquisition is concerned, our inability to solve everything at lightspeed is just another sign of failure from Overwatch."

Picking up and examining Kamran's electronic notepad, he scrolled through recent reactor data before continued on, "Luckily for you, Councillor Richards still has a shine for Slipstream even after the accident. I'm sure she'd be able to veto any unfortunate suggestion regarding your employment from the other councillors. Most likely."

Kamran felt the heat rise to his head as he sat speechless. The underlying implications of Exley's words weren't lost to him. With a tired groan, he shut his eyes and slouched into his seat defeated.

The agent continued perusing the datapad, paying no heed to Kamran's sullen mood.

Winston coughed. He clasped his coal black hands together on the camera as he spoke, his voice quiet and low, "We can't simply fabricate data and conclusions to satisfy the council, Agent Exley, no matter how angry they'll be."

"Nor am I suggesting you do so," Exley said before sighing. "However, physical impossibilities have never tempered the council's expectations and imaginary fears have never failed to exacerbate them. This is simply the reality of our current situation."

Obtaining a nearby chair, he sat down and leaned against his knees.

The Oversight agent mulled over the situation, leaning back into his newly commandeered seat. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence as Exley pondered something before finally speaking.

"There is... however... a silver lining to all of this."

"I'm failing to see it," said Kamran. He didn't even bother opening his eyes.

"One of Oversight's central tenets is to collect the most reliable intelligence for Overwatch. I think it would be remiss of me to ignore that. I don't think I've really been given the full tour of this lovely facility."

"...not catching your meaning." muttered Kamran.

"I do," stated Winston. White teeth showcased his growing grin."It could take you some time to get acquainted with Orchard's facilities especially given the recent new construction."

"Exactly, but anything less and I would be remiss in my duties," Exley replied with a sly grin.

He held up the datapad he'd been looking at, the one he'd borrowed from Kamran. "Might take me a while to look over all this data you've given me as well. I'm thinking… perhaps an extra hour at best."

Kamran opened his eyes. Realizing what Winston and Exley were hinting at, he wheeled his chair back to his cluttered workstation. "It might be tight but I should be able to get more of my colleagues on board and filter out some of the more worrying possibilities and unknowns. Something that would hopefully assuage the council's fears. That… that could be enough time."

It would appear Kamran had been given a new lease on his life.

"It better be. Councillor Neumann will probably be on his third glass by then and he's hard enough to work with when he's sober. I'll be back within the hour. I want to hear we have something substantive by then or we'll both be in bloody hot water."

Rising from his borrowed seat, Exley laid his business card on the table before turning and heading towards the control room doors.

"Breakroom is still the third room down the hall on the left, correct?" he asked over his shoulder.

Kamran nodded, and the Oversight agent disappeared through the control room doors. He sat there, watching the doors close before turning to Winston.

"Winston, Director Walters and Colonel Sharp are the project's leads so it makes sense we'd need to contact them in an emergency. Why is our third emergency contact this bloke?"

Winston shrugged.

"It's Oversight..." Winston replied. "I believe the less we know the better."

* * *

_**\- Ghost - **_

_Some Time Later..._

Exley casually walked through the halls of the Orchard facility, his footsteps echoing down the hall past darkened offices and empty labs. In the other he held a piping hot cup of coffee, the mug having been _acquired_ from the break room's 'communal' cupboard where Nathan naturally intended to return it. Later…

He skimmed through the datapad the good doctor had given him. Truthfully, his understanding of Slipstream was based in its more practical applications. At best, he'd received a summary of the theoretical aspects of Slipstream from several brief yet mind-numbingly labyrinthian lectures at the Renfrew Institute… something that seemed suddenly more appealing compared to walking past the same cookie-cutter hallways for the last half hour.

On his hologlasses, he could see two voiceprints fluctuating as both doctors continued speaking.

"... meaning whatever breached the Hagen dimensional barrier must have been small," said Kamran.

"Much more than that," interjected Winston. On Winston's end he heard car horns blare in the background before the doctor continued. "Sorry… anyways, If our analysis is correct such an object would be incredibly small, at most the size of a coin."

Exley stopped walking. "How is that possible? Slipstream jumps require a fully functional Slipstream drive, not to mention a microfusion reactor to power it. That's already several tonnes."

There was a moment of silence on the line as the doctors pondered the question. "We don't know," Winston stated plainly. "There are numerous possibilities we've theorized. However, they're simply that: speculation made on incomplete data. Unfortunately, we simply need more time."

Exley mulling over Dr. Winston's words. "At least it's something. I'll let you back to it then. Doctors."

Closing the call, he then tapped his watch and watched a hologram materialize before him. He took a moment to re-read his most recent email from Strike-Commander Morrison's assistant. Her response, if taken with the greatest optimism, was disapproving.

Reaching the end of the hallway, he tapped his visitor keycard against the door's panel and watched as the panel LED turned green. Written on the door were the words 'ETCU-084 Observation and Testing."

Pushing past the metal doors, motion-activated lights flicked on revealing the cavernous room. The room was larger than the others and held a sterile feel to it, with plastic white walls and tiled floors all showered by the bright lights overhead. Desks and terminals circled the room, facing inward towards a white oval chamber. Connected to the oval were a multitude of colored wires and cables, some larger than his arm, that led to ports in the wall or trailed out of sight.

Tapping the datapad, he brought up a diagram of the room itself.

The Slipstream team had named it the Egg, a specially designed test chamber made to funnel the energy created… no… that it had pulled… through the Hagen dimensional barrier. Were it running, inter-dimensional energy syphoned from the Slipstream reactor would reach the test chamber here and create a reaction to bend the laws of physics, allowing an object to skirt the boundaries of non-physical space.

Pixie dust and magic might also have been involved for all he knew.

Flipping through several more pages on the datapad, Exley's eyes glazed over before he

Tossed the technical report on the ETCU-084 Test Chamber before on a nearby trolley.

Last month, Oversight had _collected_ one of the Chinese ambassador's e-mails from a vulnerable access point. Dry wouldn't even begin to describe ambassador Wren's attempt at poetry. However, even reading that seemed more appealing than reading the rest of the report.

It was dark inside as Exley peered inside the Egg's interior. There was something there, inside the chamber, but he couldn't quite make it out even with his hologlasses' light enhancement. On the side of the chamber door were numerous analog controls like switches and buttons, an oddity considering the more modern holo panel screens and controls nearby.

He flipped a switch and watched the Egg's lights turn on.

Inside the Egg's roof, hexagonal panels lined the ceiling like a metallic honeycomb. At the center of each hex lay cylindrical emitters that all pointed to the center of the chamber. Two feet thick, the walls were composed of heavy metal plates with emergency blast shields in front of the already inch thick plexiglass windows.

There was also a body inside…

Exley paused at that last thought, his breathe hitched in his chest, before leaning in closer to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He didn't recognize the flight uniform, the bright blue flight suit and yellow vest were an odd combination, nor the oddly shaped flight helmet but he did understand the words written on her pant legs.

_Slipstream_

There had been exactly one pilot chosen for the Slipstream Fighter program... One pilot Overwatch had lost and had been listed Missing in Action in an accident all those weeks ago.

He tapped the comm unit on his wrist, "Kamran, I need an ambulance here, now!"

"...and make sure the rest of the wing is locked down. I want this place contained until we have this mess sorted," said Exley.

He finished his conversation with Orchard security before tapping his comm unit to cut the call. Staring through the Egg's plexiglass windows, he watched as the paramedics looked over their unconscious patient.

Looked down, he examined the dogtags in his hand.

_Oxton, Lena E._

"Well, Captain Oxton, aren't you a lucky girl? And here everyone figured you were dead and gone," he thought to himself, looking back at Lena.

A light smattering of freckles dotted the petite woman's face and combined nicely with her messy chestnut brown hair. She seemed at peace, as if she'd simply collapsed into a slumber after a hard day's work. Although, he supposed going MIA for several weeks would do that for most people.

The woman was also exceptionally young for a test pilot. Testing aircraft like the Slipstream didn't just entail flying the plane, it required a deeper understanding of aeronautics and an aircraft's limits; something that normally came with long years of experience or exceptional skill.

Her dogtags put her in her early twenties.

"My God…" said Kamran coming up beside him, "how did she get here?"

Exley shook his head. "You have the PhD in theoretical physics, Doctor, you tell me."

There was a sudden slam and they watched as Dr. Harold Winston pushed passed the security guard outside and lumbered towards them, using the knuckles of his arm for better locomotion. In his other hand the gorilla held an oversized briefcase that looked heavy enough for two men to carry. Exley's eyes, however, were immediately drawn to the doctor's banana yellow raincoat, the vinyl still dripping from the rain. It looked to him like Winston had stuck his head through a misshapen wrinkled lemon. Glancing back towards the paramedics, he hid his smirk.

"Kamran, Agent Exley," said Winston addressing both of them.

The gorilla leaned forward towards the thick plexiglass, peering into the chamber. "Damn it. Is… is she alright?" he asked turning towards them.

"Her vitals seemed stable before the paramedics took over," Exley replied.

Winston gave a sigh of relief. The doctor closed his eyes in thought before angrily slamming the thick metal wall with a muffled thump.

Kamran's eyes opened wide in surprise. He placed his hand on the gorilla's arm. "Winston, are you alright?"

"No, of course not," Winston replied, shaking his head. "The reason she's laying there is because of me."

"I'm failing to see it," Exley said wryly. "I sincerely doubt you intended for Captain Oxton to vanish quite like this."

At the end of the room, one of the paramedics wheeled in a gurney.

Winston shook his head. "We rushed the deadline. We knew there were irregularities in testing but Sharp wanted to keep the flight date. Damn it! I knew we should have postponed the flight." He watched as Winston's hands clenched.

"I'd watch what you say," said Exley. "The council won't-"

"To hell with the council! She could have died because of me. Because I was too concerned over some idiotic deadline," Winston said, exasperated. The doctor leaned against the metal wall, sighing and collecting himself.

Exley calmly leaned against the Egg's wall. "Try not to be too hard on yourself, doctor. You're only human… so to speak. We all make mistakes."

Winston shook his head. "I promised myself I would never let this kind of thing happen. I let myself get pushed around by Walters and Sharp and because of that someone almost died. Do you know what that feels like?" The doctor turned towards him.

"Yeah," Exley stated plainly. Looking one last time at Lena, he turned towards the room's exit. "I'm going to have to figure out how to break this _fantastic_ news to the council. Contact me if anything changes."

Pocketing the dog tags, he picked up his empty mug and datapad before pushing through the room's doors. Kamran's shouting and footsteps reached his ears before he made it Orchard's main hall.

Exley drew a blank at Kamran words, so he asked him again to the same puzzling response.

"Define '_disappeared' _for me_, _doctor."


End file.
